


A Reward Well-Earned

by PrimarchOmegon



Category: Warhammer - All Media Types, Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Consensual Kink, Consensual Rough Sex, Consensual Sex, Corporal Punishment, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Discipline, Dom/sub, First Time Bottoming, Hand Jobs, M/M, Master/Servant, Mild S&M, Non-Consensual Spanking, Oral Fixation, Post-Heresy, Teasing, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:53:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23517997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrimarchOmegon/pseuds/PrimarchOmegon
Summary: (This is kind of a sequel to "I Want to Hear It From You", so go check that one out first!!)After the rather uncomfortable events on a certain ship, Malail decides to gtfo as far away as possible and do whatever the hell he wants without the risk of having yet another Slaaneshi bother him, much less a Chaos Lord. Though this peace is extremely short lived and only leads to an extremely unexpected visit and a lot of initial suspicion. And gifts! Perhaps, this actually is not as bad as he made it out to be…
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	A Reward Well-Earned

“Seven bloody months...” Not that it hadn’t been worth digging in the middle of nowhere on that godforsaken planet and battling the local population of gigantic sandworms, but in the end, Malail did mourn the loss of so much hired help. Money was money after all.  
“You better be worth it.”, he mumbled, carefully sitting the little vial full of powder into the appropriate case with its brothers. If this wouldn’t sell on the black market, he could always convince someone to use it as spice and observe eventual effects. Although for some people, ingesting suspicious substances out of dark, musty and abandoned underground laboratories that had been buried for ages under tons of sand was an entirely welcome prospect. Another night to cover his tracks and he’d be off, hopefully. Which was why Malail had arranged himself with the tent just outside the excavation. Not only to supervise, but to make absolutely sure everything would go according to plan. No one would even dare to breathe when it was not their turn yet according to schedule. And his presence reminded everyone of that while making his way to his bed for tonight. Only that it was not exactly as private as he had initially thought.

In retrospect, Malail estimated that he had been approximately half a second too slow to raise a hand in attempt to cast at least some spell in time for a reaction. But all of that didn’t matter now, as the sturdy metal had already closed around his wrists and ultimately cut off his connection to the great ocean. The worst opponent to face was someone that was prepared.  
“You’re...” Antrophiel the Impure returned his unbelief with an understanding look before dragging him off to the bed.  
“Alive? Very much so, dear Sorcerer.”, the Chaos Lord mused, making him sit down and grabbing a chair for himself, even though his tall form had trouble fitting into it despite it being Astartes pattern.  
“And I figured you wouldn’t fall for the trick with the collar again, so I brought something else this time. I did mention I had my dear run ins with psykers before, didn’t I?”

“How did you even…?”  
“I’m having no hard feelings towards dear Silas, you know? I thought about it and realised I did not deserve you enough. So here I am, tracking you down by myself and my own dear prowess. I hope you can forgive me for those cuffs, but I figured you were going to put up quite a bit of a fight upon seeing me.”  
“So you plan to pick up where you left off, huh?”, Malail scoffed, well aware that Antrophiel would rip his head clean off before he could even do so much as gain more distance, sorcerer or not. There was little he could to this close to someone. Frustrating, but also not an immediate problem. If he could catch the other by surprise, then maybe, just maybe Malail had a chance of suffocating him with these very cuffs. Until then, he had to play by someone else’s rules.

“I’m not going to lie, I was a little hurt. You did my dear ship so very dirty. But ultimately, all’s well that ends well, isn’t it? Now, Sorcerer, I’d prefer to not have to liberate you from every single weapon you’re currently equipped with, as it is very tedious. So I would advise you to trust me a little, yes?” He had been in the process of making a snide remark, however, that got stuck in his throat halfway fairly quickly when Antrophiel leaned forward to undo his cuffs without hesitation. Perhaps because he thought Malail didn’t exactly pose a threat to him, perhaps because he hoped that it was that way. Or perhaps something entirely different.

“What is this supposed to be?”, Malail finally said, eyeing the other with the utmost suspicion and not yet daring to take off his helmet. There had to be something, some sort of obligation or contract. However, Antrophiel’s aura was as calm as his voice, not betraying the intentions he had displayed.  
“I’d like to present to you an invitation to join me again, dear Sorcerer. Granted, our first meeting did not end as well as I had hoped, however, it has been quite a few years, hasn’t it? And I am still in need of a sorcerer.” Indeed it had, yet Antrophiel had managed to somehow look even healthier and more youthful. His ram horns were now decorated with small, golden rings and little chains wrapped around them, he even sported a few beads and jewellery braided into his white mane. Not to mention the gems implanted into his forehead were as shiny as ever. 

_And his voice, dear gods…_

Such a persuasive, silken tongue should have been ripped out the moment it had uttered its first words.  
“That and I came bearing gifts, if you are concerned dear me is not willing to work for it.”  
“I am listening.” Antrophiel chose to return his inquisitive gaze with a fanged smile and graced Malail with a moment of turning his back on him. A perfect opportunity, a small window of chance! And even though it could have been so very easy, he did not quite understand why he continued to sit, why he actively watched this moment pass in favour of satisfying the sudden curiosity the Chaos Lord had awakened inside him. Perhaps it was worth the trouble after all…

“These are out of my personal collection. I’m sure you are aware of their value, dear Sorcerer.” The moment his hands closed around the tomes Antrophiel had presented to him was the same moment he knew that what he held in his hands was beyond any sum of money that could possibly be offered. And such pristine condition, pages well-cared for, words carefully retraced with the exact same ink every time they had started to fade, the heavy leather bindings…

“If I recall correctly, they were supposed to be bound in human skin.”  
“I assure you they are authentic. Human skin, however, is a thing you choose to bind a book in if you do not value it and want to risk having your dear grimoires fall apart eventually. I recall telling you this the first time we’ve met and I shall tell you again: _I take very good care of everything in my collection._ ” Could it be? How many times had he received subpar books from Silas as a gift, how many times had he been thrown some artifact in a bag, with seemingly no regard for its actual value? Why was it that out of all the people he had met over time, it was a Slaaneshi Chaos Lord that actually understood how to properly treat something so precious?

“You’re a man of culture and taste.”, Malail finally admitted. Strangely it was fairly easy to say such a thing to Antrophiel as well. It fit and he hated how much he wanted to ask, how many questions about potential other works he had that could be of interest. Of course, the other had observed him carefully during all of this, however, the lavish, golden eyes had only softened at his interest and compliment.

“Not everyone is like that. To some, they are mere tools.”  
“And to some, they are treasures.”, Antrophiel merely replied with a knowing nod. Perhaps that was more of a remark about his own value as a sorcerer, nevertheless, Malail couldn’t help but agree.  
“Well then, would you allow me to stay and witness your enthusiasm unfold onto my dear presents?”  
“With all due respect and thankfulness, even a basic grasp will take me the whole night.”  
“Oh, well in that case...” The other merely pursed his lips a little and turned on his chair once more.  
“It’s a good thing I brought something to drink then, yes?”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“No no, we’re not starting with that!” He sighed, all three eyes firmly focused on the pages before him on the desk. It hadn’t taken long for Malail to finally get rid of his helmet in order to have a look at these and reluctantly accept a drink. And out of reluctance had sprouted frustration and way more drinks than he had anticipated. 

“Why not, it’s a widespread theory!” Antrophiel merely laughed at the snort the sorcerer threw at him for even suggesting such an approach in the first place. By now, he had taken space on the bed and carefully flipped through one of the manuscripts Malail had handed him; glass in the other hand.  
“Just because it is widespread does not mean it’s true-”

“And it also does not indicate the opposite, dear Sorcerer! I also believe that this investigation is slightly hampered due to the fact that the words seem to change whenever your mood lighting flickers too harshly.” Malail just rewarded that statement with an eye roll. It was not his fault that the equipment in that department was rather subpar, one had to save money where it would not be missed. And for someone that saw perfectly fine in the dark, this was not an issue.  
“A few dim lights should not impact you all that much.”

“I am rather positive it’s the dear grimoires that have a problem with it, not me! However, we’ve made good process, haven’t we?” Not nearly as much as he had wanted to, though Malail did have to admit that where he had not expected much, Antrophiel had proven to be quite intelligent and of a sharp mind. His answers were well thought out and his way of thinking, while clearly tainted and pushed into a certain direction by his line of worship, was open-minded and imaginative. Truth be told, during their countless conversations and discussions, he had forgotten whom he was actually talking to at more than one occasion. It was rather easy to lose oneself in these intricately constructed arguments, especially if they were brought forth by such a well-worded, enticing voice.

“I wouldn’t have thought you to be interested in such things.”  
“What, because the Dark Prince blessed dear me with his cursed touch? Sorcerer, is that Amasec bringing out a more judgemental side of you?” It _had_ sounded rather judgemental. However, he did not plan on apologising.  
“You have your experiences with my kind, I have my own with yours.”, Malail merely said and shrugged lightly, grabbing his glass and returned to Antrophiel and the chair in order to assist him.

“I’m ready for both of us to be surprised.”  
“Oh, I think I already know how much of a degenerate you are.” The Chaos Lord awarded him with a glance, though it was neither a warning nor intimidation. It was a promise to deliver.  
“Indulging in a bit of degeneracy every now and then won’t kill you, dear Sorcerer! The proof sits in front of me after all!” Antrophiel took another sip of his glass and when he did, the dim lighting only made the scar on his neck more pronounced. Even his armour couldn’t entirely hide where his neck had been ripped open and the eerily smooth tissue peeked out from the side of his throat like a misshapen star.

“I see you’re marvelling at dear Silas’ unfinished work! Well, it does itch very uncomfortably whenever I think of you, Sorcerer.” He snorted at that, although it also somewhat amused him. What a thing to say.  
“So you’ll continue to feed me such cheesy lines?”  
“Either that or I could be blunt. You did seem to like the bluntness last time.” Malail had done his best to not think back to that encounter and his trained subconscious had made quick repression work of it, however, every now and then the tone Antrophiel sported brought back certain feelings. And with that came unwanted flashes of excitement for something that had no place in his life. At least not anymore.

“The invitation to join my little gathering of a warband is still valid, dear Sorcerer. Though this time, I promise you that you will not wish to leave my lap any sooner than you have to.”  
“I highly doubt you are that good.” He hadn’t meant to just flat out state such a thing, about as much as he hadn’t expected Antrophiel to not be offended by it. Perhaps he was used to that, perhaps Malail was not the first who had thrown this at him. And only a second later, it dawned on him that this had perhaps not been the best thing to say.  
“Well, you are free to find out for yourself, dear Sorcerer. However, as soon as you choose to sit down...” The other lightly patted his thighs, as if he expected an immediate decision. Which only reinforced Malail’s initial suspicion that he could have chosen his words a little more carefully and not give anyone ideas like that.

“ _You agree to my terms._ ” Truth be told, the chemicals in that damned collar had also had the added benefit of making it harder to remember what had happened exactly, but that didn’t mean that everything was lost. And this image specifically triggered the awfully warm feeling of hands all over his chest.  
“It’s as simple as that.”  
“I’m not occupied at the moment.”, Malail heard himself say. A second later, he felt his hands clench around the armrests of his chair before finally relaxing again. As if he had something to look forward to, what an uncanny reaction towards a job offer…

Or at least that was what Malail told himself, for the most part. Of course, there were other things, _of course_ there were these sensations he tried to not pay attention to, scratching and clawing at the back of his head and asking him to relive them whenever the Chaos Lord even did so much as speak with that horribly soothing voice.  
“Is that an affirmative evasion of my question or...?”  
“Perhaps.”  
“A yes it is. Welcome in my dear warband once more!” Antrophiel chuckled lightly, fishing a small, cylindric tube out of one of the pockets on his belt.

“Do you admire how prepared I am?”, he merely laughed. Apparently, the realisation of still having to go through a marking had shown all too well on Malail’s face. Nevertheless, the Thousand Son did undo his glove after a few seconds of consideration. Easy to hide, easy to cut off, just in case.  
“I respect how serious you take this _and_ that you are prepared, yes. Amongst other things.”

“ _Amongst other things_ , hm?” Malail didn’t exactly know to respond to that, which was why he chose to focus on how the acid stamp ate itself into the soft flesh of his wrist. The shape was undoubtedly some sort of talon and again, it surprised him how dear the Chaos Lord seemed to hold his former legion, still.  
“Well, Sorcerer? How does it feel to finally serve under me?”  
“Less like a pact with the devil than I thought.”, he merely said, though he couldn’t resist adding to that in a less than savory way.

“It beats having to physically be under someone.” Why was it that he couldn’t let things go? Why was it that every time an opportunity presented itself, he had to revert back to the very incident he adamantly tried to forget about with some sort of comment? And yet, Antrophiel didn’t give him the same look Malail was used to from whom usually expressed interest in him so far. His eyes did not look at him with the sole reason of want, rather than the same enthusiasm the Thousand Son had devoted to exploring the vastness of information inside those tombs earlier this night. He was not prey, rather than something Antrophiel was truly curious about.

“I wouldn’t go as far, dear Sorcerer. After all, you haven’t even tried yet!” He had been in the process of retracting his hand when the other yanked him out of the chair and into his arms. The only reason Malail chose to not move an inch from where he had landed square on the Chaos Lord’s lap was due to the armoured hand that had grabbed his face and blindsighted him temporarily. Though vision was not needed to explicitly know that his head was at risk of being crushed at any second from now on.

“Don’t be mad, dear sorcerer, I did tell you that you can sit down whenever you want. However, working for me also means you sit whenever _I_ want. And this time...” Ceramite teasingly clacked against ceramite when fingertips trailed across his chest plate and Malail imagined he could feel them trace the decorative eye in its middle.

“Face to face, if you please. You’ll forgive me, but my restraint only goes so far and you’ve been straining my patience a lot...” It was absurd how much he felt like a ragdoll whenever Antrophiel handled him, as if his weight combined with his armour was next to nothing. In his time, Malail had served his fair share of warband leaders, though none of them had been anywhere close to a Chaos Lord like this. The mutations weren’t important, the behaviour or size was not important. The very fact that he felt like he had no choice but to oblige, the very fact that he felt less bothered to even do so… 

The very fact that Malail couldn’t even find any excuses to not search for eye contact when he finally sat down properly on Antrophiel’s lap was the difference. His aura was not forcibly trying to radiate dominance in order to keep everyone in line, rather than naturally expressing it and being confident in himself. Though Malail also had to admit that surviving one’s own murder was adding a lot to how overpowered he felt by Antrophiel.  
“There is something about you and my eyes, isn’t there?”, he laughed, only for Malail to immediately break off eye contact. And regret it shortly afterwards, when the other suddenly grabbed his thighs, aggressively pulling him so close their faces almost touched by accident.

“Don’t you dare look away in my dear presence, sorcerer. You will tell me or I _will_ continue where we left off last time.” Malail unwillingly shivered when he felt Antrophiel’s breath near his ear. And hearing him reduce his already silken voice to a mildly threatening, yet promising whisper was like having the edge of a blade pressed to his throat.  
“And believe me when I say that I can be anything but gentle if you keep trying me like that. Is that really what you want?”

“I just...” What a disgusting way to start a reply. As if he was in need to justify himself, as if he needed to answer fast in order to avert punishment and had panicked somewhere along the way. Like a damn child…  
“They do not look at me the way I am used to.”, he finally said. One of the ram horns grazed his cheek lightly and Malail couldn’t help but wanting to touch them. Even if it was just to get them out of the way.  
“How do people usually look at you, sorcerer? Mild disgust? Mild interest? How does dear Silas look at you?”  
“Expectantly.” Antrophiel chuckled and urged him forward a little more in order to reach a particularly stubborn part of his armour that refused to open for such skilled fingers.

“Ah yes. He’s always expecting you to immediately want to fuck him whenever he does something nice, isn’t he? No matter if he’s barely above the baseline of courtesy, no matter if he clearly has no right to demand. You’ll find that I am quite different in that regard.”  
“I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.” Finally, after all that reluctance to utter any form of admission, it had been so very easy to say it.  
“So, what about that judgement from before?”  
“Perhaps I have been mistaken-” The way Antrophiel almost ripped his undersuit off of him cut him off mid sentence. It had been so jarring to realise how far his state of undressing had already progressed, though that was but an afterthought when he felt all too familiar, uncannily warm hands on his skin again.

“Dear sorcerer, I’m not here to play games with you. And if you don’t stop feeding me your little half-truths, I will _personally_ make you regret it.” He swallowed at that. Unconsciously, however, Malail could almost physically grasp how serious the other was.  
“Then give me more time to-”  
“Time is not a luxury you have, dear sorcerer! Now, are you going to make it worse or are you going to make it up to me?” This was probably how Isaac had felt back then, poor little guy. And yet, Malail didn’t waste another breath on more sentences that would ultimately be dismissed and perhaps even punished. Instead, he leaned forward, lightly tugging at one of the horns to get Antrophiel to tilt his head a little so that he could kiss him properly. Someone that lead a warband had no right to be so knowledgeable on how to move and where to dig thumbs into the most inner part of his thighs to make him gasp, only to immediately pull him back. Not a single break was awarded to him, even when Malail finally managed to get used to Antrophiel’s elongated, smooth tongue and how much space it occupied in his mouth. If he accidentally swallowed, he’d probably feel it hit the back of his throat and halfway going down.

“Why do you have to be so large... ”  
“Do you want me to show you what else I could do?” This time, Malail was wise enough to respond appropriately. Or so he had thought.  
“I’d like that.”  
“You’d like _what exactly_ , dear sorcerer? Let me hear you say it for me.”  
“I’d like you to show me... what else you can do.” Antrophiel chuckled lightly, patting his head. It was obvious how much he enjoyed how Malail tried to not humiliate himself with outright asking for something like that. And how much he was failing at it.

“Louder. I want you to tell me what you need and how much you need it.” For a brief moment, he hesitated, though ultimately, he knew he had to give in. He had to. There was not a single thing he could do and Antrophiel’s grip did more than just show him that walking away was not an option anymore.  
“I… _Please_ , my Lord, I need you to show me what else you can do.”  
“Oh, like what for example?”

“I need you to... To...” He couldn’t say it. No matter how much Malail tried to force himself, he couldn’t say it. The way Antrophiel explored every inch of his skin with such a maddeningly slow pace, the way those fingers came so close to his middle multiple times, yet only barely grazed the inside of his thighs was infuriating. And then they suddenly decided to trail off to his back, gently traveling down his spine and his lower back. And they did not stop there.

“It looks like you still need a little more incentive, don’t you? If I had noticed what a firm ass you have back then, I would have had even more trouble taking my time. And since you seem to not know how to show some courtesy, I’ll tell you what I am going to do, dear sorcerer.” Again, Antrophiel leaned in, squeezing him roughly. Not that Malail didn’t appreciate instructions, however, he was currently more occupied with holding onto Antrophiel. He moved so damn much, why did he move so much? Why did he insist on shoving Malail against him like that, why couldn’t he just… _start_?

“No hasty decisions this time. Do you know how many times you’ve failed to address dear me by title, despite serving me from now on? You really want to push my buttons.” A cold shudder ran down his back. He had completely forgotten about that. Even after Antrophiel had branded him, Malail had continued talking to him like before and not wasted a single thought on the contract he had just entered. The hierarchy he had ultimately submitted to.

“So, since you have no manners and continue to behave like a smug child, I’m going to treat you like one.” The Chaos Lord only answered his slight panic with a chastising look, pointing him to get off of his thighs and instead sit at his side. And as soon as Malail did, he was grabbed by the neck and bent over Antrophiel’s lap, though he almost fell off from how forceful it had been, how much the hand on his lower back pushed him onto the legs under him.

“My Lord, let me just-”  
“You better count them, _dear sorcerer_.” At first, he hadn’t even understood what the other had meant, though the horrified realisation set in as soon as he felt the Chaos Lord gently patting him before delivering his first, startling slap.  
“So firm… I might break my hand on your ass!”, Antrophiel chuckled, barely paying attention to how much Malail had jolted against his legs from that alone. Not that it particularly hurt, but being spanked like an unruly child was so abstract and unfathomable to the being he had become that he couldn’t help but feel ashamed. Ashamed that someone did this to him, that someone held him down by the neck and humiliated him in such a playful way. And yet, he opened his mouth, forcing the words out that he dreaded so much.

“... _One_ , _Sir_.”  
“Good! I want you to count them out for me, the harder the louder.” Was he so deserving of punishment? The hand in the back of his neck agreed with that statement, forcing him to bow down even more while he waited for the inevitable. Not knowing which rhythm and what pacing to adjust to made him anxious, yet he was almost anticipating them. It was unpredictable, there was no way to see it coming. Terrible, agonizing… And so very exciting that every slight tension he felt from Antrophiel’s body caused him to wince in response.

“Two, Sir. Three, _four..._!” Malail grit his teeth at the fifth being by far the hardest yet. There was carefully regulated strength in Antrophiel’s strikes, however, that didn’t mean some of them didn’t sting a little more than they should have, even through the fabric of his undersuit. Being shoved against these legs so much, having nothing to grab onto for support and being so entirely vulnerable to every single push; all of that didn’t help how much he wanted Antrophiel to just get to it. 

He’d take anything at this point, hell, he’d even go back to sitting on someone’s lap while the collar around his neck flooded his system with all kinds of substances. Anything, just to end this. Just to get those hands to touch him again like they had before.  
Around the twenty-seventh slap, Malail had spontaneously lost count, prompting the other to start from the beginning and thus wringing a frustrated sigh out of him.  
“Please, my Lord!”  
“Are we going to be good now? Are we going to be respectful towards our dear superior?” The Thousand Son nodded, though he did not attempt to get up from his position until Antrophiel finally let go of him. His legs were shaking lightly from being forced into such an uncomfortable position and tensing up so frequently, however, Malail kept it down.

“You may undress me. Unless you want me to spread your legs so far in order to fit in between with my dear armour that you won’t be feeling them for a long time.” Malail chose to keep quiet an instead occupy his hands with relieving the Chaos Lord of his armour. And the more he progressed, the more he realised that Antrophiel was not only seeming to be much taller, he was rather intimidating to kneel in front of in order to get the leg armour undone.

“While you’re down there and working so very diligently, dear Sorcerer...” He spared Antrophiel a quick glance upwards, not wanting to earn yet another form of undoubtedly humiliating punishment for stopping what he had been appointed to do.  
“ _Yes_ , my Lord?”, Malail replied as saccharine as he could muster, putting a few pieces of armour aside.  
“How may I be of service?” Instead of giving him an order, he found the Chaos Lord’s hand almost absently caressing the back of his head before urging him forward a little, gently pressing Malail’s face against his thigh. How could a person emit such body heat? There might as well be no undersuit, his cheek might as well be rubbed against bare skin!

“I thought your dear imagination is your strong suit!” Malail swallowed lightly, not even wanting to reply in any form other than opening his mouth and carefully biting down on Antrophiel’s inner thigh. Hesitantly, he moved further up before deciding that he had nothing to lose anymore. And judging from the Chaos Lord’s affirmative purr when he proceeded to lick a thick, wet stripe across the bulge under the fabric and that he was abruptly shoved into it, he had done something right. For a split second, a sudden lapse of self-control maybe, Malail felt his hand brush against his own groin, though he immediately pulled back in shame.

“Well, show me what you got, dear sorcerer… No, not there. _Here._ ” Antrophiel graced him with a rather dangerous smile, letting go of his head and instead waving a hand in front of his face. Malail was not entirely convinced that this wasn’t some sort of sick joke some higher powers played on him. Why did it have to be that, of all things…?

“Come on, I don’t have all night!” The Thousand Son sighed lightly, nevertheless, he did open his mouth to let two of Antrophiel’s fingers in. Naturally, they were not as small as Isaac’s had been back then, nevertheless, he let them find a comfortable position in his mouth. He didn’t manage to hold this intense eye contact any longer when he saw the other’s smile widen upon squeezing his tongue in between the index and middle finger. This time, he might actually choke on them. This time, he might actually end up losing composure when they’d decide to push his tongue down and make him drool all over himself. Malail was well aware of how his hands had trouble not touching himself wherever he felt like his skin was too tight. Every now and then, the fingers in his mouth spread or curled around his tongue and they didn’t do him any favours by sliding in deeper when he couldn’t help but swallow around them. Too much, way too much…

“Ah, we like having our dear mouth stuffed, don’t we? I’ve barely moved them and you’re already giving me this look, how do you eat food without getting off on it, sorcerer!” For some reason, the other decided to press against the roof of his mouth before finally retracting his hand and wiping it against the Thousand Son’s cheek. And there was nothing that made Malail more relieved and upset at the same time than stopping now.

“I was considering giving you something better to match that tongue. However, I feel like you’d bite my dick off just to spite me, should I decide to shove it into your mouth right here and now.” Once again, Antrophiel reduced his voice to a mere whisper, though Malail was still damned to hear every single word of it.  
“And believe me that I would. _I would push it all in until it hits the back of your throat every time I force you back down on it._ But that will have to wait.”

“That’s a shame, my Lord.” Truth be told, Malail wasn’t entirely sure if he was still trying to be sarcastic or not. At this point, he almost felt comfortable with this scenario and with how Antrophiel did not put up with any form of play he tried to make. There was no wiggle room for him without punishment following close behind and yet, he kept pushing his limits in hopes of… In hopes of what exactly? Some form of response?

“Are you really re-evaluating your dear life choices, sorcerer? While we do this?” Apparently, his absent-mindedness had been taken note of rather quickly, judging from the Chaos Lord’s inquisitive look thrown his way.  
“My apologies.”

“You can do that afterwards, _when there is an actual reason to_. For now, you know what to do.” Granted, Antrophiel gave him time to properly lay down on the bed before straddling him roughly and while pulling his arms out of his own undersuit. And as much as Malail had hoped that there was at least something to be appalled by, the only thing that the other showed off was a map of scars on his pale, almost albino skin. Malail had never seen Cortus without armour on, however, he did picture him to look something like this underneath. There was almost no way of telling where a scar began and where it ended, safe for the different types of injuries they had undoubtedly come from.

“So many...” He hadn’t meant to sound that dumbfounded, nor had he wanted to say something so stupid. Of course there were many. Even though Malail had seen Prospero burn and the Horus Heresy unfold to its horrifying crescendo, Antrophiel seemed much older than him, still. Who knew what this man had seen and how long he had been serving before.

“Dear Silas was not the first one to try his luck. And he is only one of a few that have actually succeeded.” For a split second, he thought that he’d be pushed down again once he’d make any attempt at sitting up, however, the Chaos Lord granted him a closer look at his chest. Some scars looked like pieces had straight up been torn out, another area on the back felt like craters when he ran his fingers over it. Something he would have attributed to a moon’s landscape, rather than flesh.  
“And yet you’re alive breathing.” He earned a chuckle and a nod for that.

“Because I have no other choice, dear sorcerer. It does not matter what I want or how much I ask for it. I cannot seem to stay dead.” What? Could such a being even exist? Malail was suddenly and very harshly made aware of the fact that he had swallowed at that. This man that had proven to be an intelligent, well-spoken and open-minded person; this Chaos Lord that had revealed such an interesting secret so casually…

He was all too easy to be fascinated by and Malail couldn’t help but wonder what else this body hid from him.  
“In that case, my Lord, I don’t feel all too bad about occupying some more of your time, as you seem to have plenty left.” Strangely, his body had tensed with what he would have almost called anticipation of punishment, yet, Antrophiel let him run both hands across his back and press a kiss on one of the thinner scars on his chest. Maybe he was overstepping his boundaries, but as long as he was allowed to, Malail would continue to see how much he could get away with.

“Is that sarcasm, I hear?” The Thousand Son flinched at the hand that found the back of his head yet again, already expecting some form of repercussion that didn’t come. At least not yet. It merely caressed the spot where his spine connected with his skull, careful to not accidentally poke one of the many eyes that moved around on his body.  
“That wasn’t my intention, my Lord.” It had been. And it still was.  
“Then spare me, sorcerer. Spare me with your dear tangents and tell me what you need me to do.”, the Chaos Lord merely said, roughly forcing his hips between Malail’s legs and pushing him on his back again.

“Tell me what you want.” He didn’t exactly know how to respond to that, considering that Antrophiel grinding against him made it rather difficult to focus.  
“I would… _appreciate_ if you’d touch me.” Why did it have to be now that things were slowing down, why was it now that he wanted these hands to dig into his skin? At least he didn’t have to bear with the sudden tightness of his undersuit anymore when he was relieved of it once and for all.  
“My Lord...”

“Those are some outstanding eyes, sorcerer. And they’re all looking at me, are you trying to give dear me performance anxiety?” He audibly inhaled upon having a finger trail across his front and down to his stomach, carefully sliding through in between the various eyeballs that glanced at it passing. By now, every part of his skin was so sensitive towards any forms of touches that he couldn’t help but tense up under it.

“They follow my movements too, it almost seems like they’re concerned. You don’t have to worry about that, I’m going to treat him well...” Malail had been about to reply with a good amount of mood-killing facts when Antrophiel’s damnably skilled hand wrapped itself around him and forced him into a startled gasp.  
“Oh, they widened at that. As if they can’t believe you are capable of such noises, that is adorable. Are we enjoying ourselves, yes?” That was an understatement. It would have helped if the other hadn’t been so good at what he did; if his pace had been off or if his grip had been a little too loose, but these patient, firm strokes…

Isaac had not been like that, his little hands had never managed to achieve this warm, perfectly tight sensation. Terrible, horrifying considering the lack of self-control he had watched himself fall victim to. If that was what his hand could do, Malail shuddered to imagine what it would be like if Antrophiel would bend his head down now, how if would feel to have such an experienced mouth suck him off. How that grotesquely elongated tongue would wrap itself around his entire length and how Antrophiel would gently swallow around him, drawing him further in.

“So sensitive… But I can’t have you finish just yet, dear sorcerer. We still have a long way to go.” He hated himself for how desperate the noise that came out of his mouth was when the Chaos Lord set back to retrieve a small bottle from his discarded belt.

“Do you still admire how prepared I am? You already took your appropriate punishment and I don’t intend to make anything unnecessarily painful. _Unless you deserve it._ ” The sole intonation of that felt almost as uncomfortable as the slick, oily fingers working themselves inside of him. Not that Malail had ever thought the day would come where he would have to gather experience in such things, but now that it was happening, it would have been better to have Antrophiel’s cock shoved into his mouth. At least that would have been more pleasurable than all this… _wiggling_. Not enough to satisfy, yet sufficiently present to be uncomfortable.

“You’d best not tense up like that. That’s not going to help you, believe me.”  
“If it’s only going to be that big then I think I can handle it, my Lord.” He should not have said that. Even before Antrophiel forced his fingers all the way in without any warning, even before he curled them lightly to press onto a spot that made the Thousand Son squirm, Malail had known that he should not have said that.  
“We’re a glutton for punishment, aren’t we? You’ll find that dear me is not a good opponent to go up against, _sorcerer_. I advise you to accept when I decide to be gentle with you, especially now.”  
As soon as he could spare a quick glance downward by tearing his gaze away from these intense, golden eyes, he immediately regretted his decision. Now that the other worked himself out of his undersuit as well, Malail was unwillingly made aware of how big Antrophiel truly was and concern flared up in the back of his mind for a slight moment. However, he was merely readjusted on the mattress, left to anticipate whenever whatever would happen. Not that he cared much, this far in. Perhaps the Chaos Lord was only here to satisfy needs, that was about the only reason Malail could make sense of, at least. But that did not mean it was unwelcome.

This time, their kiss was softer than before. Antrophiel refrained from prying his lips apart, nor did he squeeze his jaw roughly like he had done before. Instead, he was gently redirected where the other wanted him and inexperienced mistakes were corrected. He could deal with this, it was fine. What wasn’t fine was how much Antrophiel stretched him upon finally pushing inside and how he couldn’t help but whimper at that. Malail had already given it enough thought to decide he did not want to think about it any longer.  
“I admit, that is a tight fit. But you don’t have to worry yourself with that, we’re going to get you used to this.”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t my Lord-” A string of curses escaped his mouth when Antrophiel decided to start moving. Gently and carefully, though not nearly as controlled as it could have been. And it took Malail a whole while of erratic, panicked breathing before he could force his body into relaxation. It didn’t help that the Chaos Lord hadn’t taken his eyes off him for a single second; most likely to not miss the look on his face and the expression he sported while holding his legs up. That alone was so humiliating, he couldn’t think of anything worse than that.

“Easy does it, sorcerer. You don’t have to move for me, you move with me.” He wanted to, he _really_ wanted to. And it would have been so easy if Malail could help being shoved upwards by every single one of Antrophiel’s thrusts. In his desperation, he had even reached over his head to somewhat stabilize himself on the bed frame.  
“Is that unpleasant? Perhaps you need a little adjusting, still..” He had been about to interject when the Chaos Lord merely pulled him down on the mattress a little more and resumed his movements. And this time, Malail couldn’t even tell when his fingers had dug into the other’s scarred back. How Antrophiel managed to hit all the right spots he didn’t know he even had was beyond him, however, he didn’t care. There were a lot of things that seemed extremely trivial right now.  
“That’s a better angle, isn’t it? I don’t like to be kept waiting and I’m sure the same goes for you.”  
“My Lord, please…! I… I can’t…!”

“And yet you’re doing so great. Here, we’ll speed this up a bit...” Did he want this? Did he want anything else? Malail couldn't tell anymore, safe for impatiently shoving his hips upward a little every time the other dared to slow his movements down in order to savor the moment. Antrophiel's only answer was to finally reach between Malail's legs. Though the rhythm and pace he set was by no means merciful. It was a promise to deliver what he wanted, if he only asked for it.

"Oh,we want everything, don't we? We want everything right here and now and as fast as possible, don't we?"  
"I…!" Would he really say it? After all this punishment that Malail had endured to finally be rewarded with this, would he say it? Even if it was just as humiliating as what he had gone through before?  
“I’m listening, dear sorcerer.”  
“Can you… not call me that, my Lord?” For a moment, the Chaos Lord actually stopped and gave him a surprised glance.  
“You could have said something! What is more to your liking, then?”  
“Malail, my Lord.” Antrophiel didn’t seem like he minded the slight interjection, if anything, he seemed rather pleased. Had this not ruined the mood beyond repair? What a strange situation, yet still sort of intimate, considering no one had even bothered to call him by his name ever since he had started providing his services to warbands.

“That is a good name.” The other nodded lightly, granting him a brief break before resuming his movements. His pale, almost albino skin already sported a reddened agitation on his face and body, making his blood vessels shine through here and there. And as if it had been an immediate conclusion, Malail imagined what it would be like to have someone like Antrophiel submit and what kind of person could actually accomplish such a thing.

Why was it so tempting to think about fingers digging into that scarred flesh, why was it so easy to picture him being held down by one of his horns while someone took everything he had to offer, even if he didn’t want to give it up in the first place?  
“I’m still listening, _Malail_.” The way his name rolled off of Antrophiel’s tongue made him shiver. Right, he had been stalling. He had been stalling and he didn’t know if it was even a good thing that he wanted this. But now that he had been put on the spot, Malail didn’t dare making a play for more time.

“I…!” Again, several curses left his lips,when Antrophiel’s hand forced a hard downstroke and made him arch his back with that. Though he refused to acknowledge how much it had sounded like a startled whine.  
“Out with it, _now_. Tell me what you want.”  
“I want… Harder, my Lord…!” Shame immediately crept up his face and Malail chose to look up at the roof of the tent. There it was, now he’d have to deal with what his carelessness had produced. And he most certainly did not want to see the look on the Chaos Lord’s face after such an admission.

“That I can provide.” Malail didn’t even have time to adjust or react when Antrophiel leaned down on his shoulder with a crushing amount of weight, grabbing the side on his hip with a bruisingly forceful grip. Almost immediately, their pace changed and he was shoved upward and against the head of the bed frame, even though the Chaos Lord held him down firmly

_Terrifying._

_Horrible._

_Stressful._

And yet, despite the other not even bothering to soften his thrusts any longer, it felt… overwhelmingly pleasurable. So much so that Malail couldn’t help but finish all over himself, accompanied by a muffled cry. However, Antrophiel was far from done and kept going for a few agonisingly long seconds in which Malail couldn’t tell if his body would give in any second under the relentless pace, before he finally came with a growl that almost sounded predatory. That was it. That was the line. And Malail’s sudden regret was clearly visible, all over his stomach. Never again would he ask for such a thing, even if it was in the heat of the moment; even if he could not think clearly to begin with! Even if it had felt amazing and even if he immediately grabbed Antrophiel by his ram horns to pull him into a kiss.

“I did not plan on doing that so soon.”, the Chaos Lord mused, already busy with trying to find something they could use to clean themselves up.  
“And not as the first thing you’d ask me for. You’re really giving dear me a hard time!”  
“It would have been quite a disadvantage in this situation if I hadn’t, my Lord.”, Malail merely retorted, thankful for the cloth he was handed. Another disadvantage was that it had gotten in his eyes regardless and they were definitely not happy about that. Though they did move to his back in order to let him clean up this mess.  
“We’ll be sure to do that again, won’t we, Malail?” The Thousand Son allowed himself a careful and subtle smile at that. It wasn’t every day that someone said his name with such a softness to it and he couldn’t help but like that. In a way.  
“I will sit down whenever I want, my Lord. But I will also sit down when you tell me to. Although I feel like I won’t be doing that for quite a while now...”

**Author's Note:**

> Three people read this out loud on my discord server and they were never the same afterwards, 1 Kudos=1 F-Key pressed!
> 
> If you liked this piece of work, leave me a comment too, if you wanna!


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